


Forged in Fire and Steel

by MarsOfTheStars



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Main Quest with Deviations, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Apocalypse, Romance, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 05:11:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10678371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarsOfTheStars/pseuds/MarsOfTheStars
Summary: Hancock doesn't know what's waiting for him at the end of this road, but he sure as hell knows the ride will be interesting.





	Forged in Fire and Steel

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first official fanfic, and this first chapter is quite short. Hopefully as I get used to this, they'll get longer.

After a few mentats, several almost-cold bottle of Gwinnett’s, two cigars, nine packs of cigarettes, and what felt like an infinite amount of jet, Hancock was too busy drifting out to sea to notice the succession of sharp raps on his office door.

It took nearly a carton of cigarettes for Hancock to start to consider that he might have to give up on his quest of blowing smoke rings. He chalked it up to probably being one of those things you needs lips for.

Fahrenheit and two Watchmen threw open the door to his office, startling him out of his reverie. “Heyyyy, Fahr,” he drawled, only slightly irritated. Despite her cut-and-dry demeanor, the sight of his favorite redhead always made him smile. “Now you know I ain’t doin’ shit today. What gives?”

“Boss,” she said, throwing him one of those looks that told him his day, and consequently the nice high he’d been building all morning, was about to get fucked up. “We’ve got a problem.”

He sighed, watching the smoke from his cigarette curl and hover lazily in the air. “And I suppose this ain’t somethin’ you can handle without little old me?”

Fahr simply raised one fine red eyebrow at him and left the room without another word. Stubbing his cigarette out with a little more force than necessary, Hancock uncrossed his legs and pushed himself up out of his chair, grabbing his shotgun on the way out.

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

“Listen to me, you little shit, you better stop pointin’ that thing at my face or we’re gonna have a problem. You don’t know what you’re about to get yourself into.”

As Hancock rounded the corner into the market, he was greeted with quite a sight. Finn, Goodneighbor’s resident Number One Asshole, was facing down the stoniest, wiriest little thing he had ever seen. The stranger’s face didn’t budge an inch at Finn’s threat, but his finger pointedly switched off the safety on his pipe pistol.

Hancock took quick inventory of the new arrival, noting with interest the Pipboy strapped around his wrist. He had a deep, angry scar across his face and what looked to be a nasty burn scar, travelling from collar bone to jaw; wrapped tight in blackened leather, the boy -- man..? Hancock couldn’t readily determine his age, though he looked to be twenty-something -- had a lithe frame that was currently striking a rather aggressive stance. There was a mutt at growling at his heels, teeth bared at Finn.

“Woah, woah, woah, hey! What’s goin’ on here?” Hancock strolled forward, pasting an easy grin on his face, hands raising up in what he hoped was a placating gesture.

The stranger’s steely grey eyes flicked over to him for a millisecond, sizing him up, before returning to Finn. Hancock had to admit he was a little surprised that Finn hadn’t been struck down yet by the fire in those eyes alone. Nothing about this stranger made any sense, but there was no way in hell Finn was gonna ruin his chance to piece it together.

“Ah... Mayor, always good to see you,” Finn drawled, winking at him. Hancock repressed a scowl. Finn never did rub him quite right. “I was just tryin’ to give our newcomer here a warm welcome, and... y’know, fill him in on how things work ‘round here.”

Hancock stepped closer to Finn, moving languidly. “Is that what we’re calling it now, Finn? How many times I gotta tell you that I’m not putting up with this extortion crap?”

Finn’s face and posture went from zero to one hundred, scowling and spitting at both Hancock and the stranger. “Why do you care? He ain’t one of us! You’re gettin’ soft, Hancock!”

At this point, Hancock was really beginning to regret getting out of his chair. “Now why’d you have to go and say that, huh? You’re breakin’ --”

A shot rang out in the relative hush of the square, and then the thick, squelching thump of Finn’s body on the pavement. All eyes fixed on the stranger, who was leveling Hancock with a steady look. At the sound of countless Watchmen cocking their rifles and aiming their submachine guns, Hancock raised a hand to halt them.

Hancock eyed the rusted blade clenched tight in Finn’s hand, then the newcomer. Hancock felt a genuine grin stretch his face for the first time in a long, long time. “Well, darlin’, you sure got my attention now.”


End file.
